Miserere Mei
by Sionnain
Summary: Rogue's transgression leads to a much needed conversation. Completed oneshot in my Ideology verse. RogueXMagneto. Please be aware there are d s elements to this. Don't read if such offends you.


**AN: **_Detka_ means baby in Russian. _Miserere Mei_ means "Have mercy on me" in Latin. The quote that begins the story is from the Latin vulgate translation of Psalm 50 and translates as: "For I acknowledge my transgressions: and my sin is ever before me." This story is set in my _Ideology-_verse and is a complete one-shot.

**Miserere Me**

_Amplius lava me ab iniquitate mea: et a peccato meo munda me._

She really should have told him about Omega Red.

It was just that Rogue never thought that the tentacled-mutant's advances were anything more than an annoyance that she would endure until he left. She knew he wasn't going to be staying permanently at the fortress—thank God—and so she tried her best to ignore his lewd comments and suggestive glances.

Not to mention those tentacles, which she _really_ wanted to tie in a knot so he couldn't, oh, try and slide one up her legs during dinner. The night he'd cornered her near the laundry facilities and backed her against the wall was the worst; he'd made some snide comment about his "death spores" and slid one of his tentacles over her breasts.

She'd shoved him away and told him never to touch her again or she'd hurt him, bad. He'd laughed at her, which wasn't very comforting. She'd eventually confided in Pyro, who'd urged her to tell Magneto that Omega Red was "making an ass of himself."

Rogue refused to do that. She told Pyro she wanted to handle this herself, because she didn't want special treatment because of whose bed she slept in, which was mostly the truth. Rogue would be damned if Omega Red—a mutant she'd _saved from prison_, at that—would make her go running to Magneto.

There was another reason, a darker one, and she didn't like to dwell on that too much. _You're afraid he'll blame you, or worse, won't care at all._ Erik obviously needed the mutant's help for something, and Rogue refused to put the Cause in danger just because of a little inappropriateness. She started skipping dinner and avoided any recreational time, in order to keep her interactions with Omega Red at a minimum. She was hopeful he'd be leaving soon, and then this would all be over.

Then he'd blackened her eye.

She'd told him for the umpteenth time to leave her alone, and he'd responded by running that damned tentacle up her body again and telling her what else he could do with his appendages. She'd kicked him, hard, wanting to make it clear she wouldn't put up with this from him.

He'd slapped his tentacle on her face in retaliation, and threatened to release his deadly spores on her if she didn't submit to him willingly. She really wished they'd left him in that prison to rot. She could feel the sting of her face and knew it was going to leave a very bad bruise.

Pyro thought she was crazy, when she said she wasn't going to mention it to Magneto. He'd told her that Magneto would go ballistic to hear that a mutant under his roof had threatened and _struck_ her. Rogue had been unable to look at him, because she was terrified that Magneto _wouldn't_ believe her.

She'd tell him the black eye came from training.

ooooooooOOOOoooooooo

She'd just gotten out of the shower, her body covered in a thick towel, wet hair loose around her shoulders. She was examining the black eye in the mirror, touching it with her bare fingers and wincing at the pain.

Every time she thought about the sting of that stupid tentacle against her face, it made her stomach sick. It hurt badly, and she really wanted Magneto to twist those tentacles around Omega Red's neck and throw him out into the sea.

Instead, she took a deep breath and practiced it in her head. _Training, just was a bit too slow, that's all._ He'd punish her somehow for that, she was sure, but Rogue would rather be punished for failure to perform up to expectations during training than…

_What? His cold indifference that someone's hit you? An order to sleep with Omega Red for the good of the Cause? You're sleeping with him, Rogue, you know exactly how he is. No illusions. It's your fault._

She was shaking when the door opened, and she knew she was in trouble from the look on his face alone. His chill eyes touched on her bruised face and the door slammed behind him as he advanced into the room.

"What happened to your eye, Rogue?" There was a silky menace in his voice that immediately set her on edge.

"Nothing," she bit out, fingers tightening on the towel. "Training accident."

"Training accident?" He stalked towards her, his movements predatory.

Her sense of self-preservation screamed at her to just tell him what had happened. She didn't listen. "Yes," she said quietly, moving backwards. Her eyes were very wide.

"I am going to ask you this again. I want you to remember the day that I took the cuffs off of you, the day you swore your allegiance to me here in this very room. I expect you to answer me accordingly, else you will face some _very_ unpleasant consequences. What happened to your eye, Rogue?"

She'd rarely heard his voice so cold. "I—I had a run-in with Omega Red."

"Why? Did you anger him?"

The injustice of it bit sharp. Irrational tears stung her eyes. "I guess so," she muttered, looking away.

"Is there some reason you are refusing to tell me what happened?"

She looked up at him. "You got it right," she said in a dull voice. "I made him mad."

To her surprise, he reached out and caught her shoulders in his hands. The fact that he was wearing gloves made her nervous. "Did I not just tell you there would be unpleasant consequences for lying to me?"

"Yes, you did, sir." She dropped her chin, letting her hair cover her face. She felt sick to her stomach.

"Look at me," he hissed, catching her under the chin with his fingers, forcing her to look at him. "Tell me the truth."

"I am. I made him angry, and he hit me." She kept her voice even.

"What did you do to make him angry?"

She jerked her head back, pulling her chin from his grasp. "I told him _no_. Repeatedly." She turned away from him and began searching for her clothes.

"Pyro came to see me. You can imagine my surprise when he informed me that someone to whom I'd offered hospitality was attempting to force himself upon you and I'd not heard a word about it."

Rogue vowed to kill Pyro at her earliest opportunity. "It wasn't any of his business."

"Nor was it mine, apparently."

She slammed her hand down on the dresser and glared at him. "Why should I have told you?"

"You didn't think I would care to know this information?"

"I thought you'd tell me to take care of it. So I did." She crossed her arms over her chest, trapping the material of the cotton towel against her body.

His fingers, encased in leather, skirted the purplish-blue mark of her bruise. "Yes, I see how that worked out admirably for you."

Making a small sound of annoyance, she turned away and began dressing in quick, jerky movements as she pulled on her pajamas. "So what is my punishment?"

"I beg your pardon?"

She tugged her long-sleeved shirt on and found the cotton gloves she wore to bed, covering her hands. "My punishment. For not telling you the truth. For not fucking him to ensure his loyalty. Whichever you prefer."

She'd seen him angry before, but rarely like this. She faltered and almost apologized under the force of the fury of the glare he directed towards her. A few seconds later, she felt the clasp of cuffs on her wrists and she was thrown to the floor. Rogue cried out as the bruised side of her face struck against the cold metal.

Her hands were suddenly attached to something unyielding. Rogue gave a sharp tug, but to no avail. She was all but chained to the bottom of the bed, lying on the floor like a _dog_. Silent and fuming, she lay there as he calmly went about preparing for bed. He turned the light off without a word.

The floor was very cold beneath her, and the chill of it began to seep through her thin cotton pajamas. Erik was very warm, so she tried to wear thinner clothes to bed since she had to wear so many of them to keep him safe from her skin.

This meant that in a matter of minutes she was shivering violently. The bedroom was very dark. In that moment she hated him more than she had on the Statue, more than when he'd made that insensitive crack about her hair on the X-Jet at Alkali.

He had her arms twisted so that she couldn't move, so that her face was still pressed against the floor. It hurt so badly against her eye she thought she might be sick. She wanted to cry, but she tried to stay silent until he was asleep so that he wouldn't hear her. Curling her legs up, she tried to huddle as close to herself as she could in order to get warm.

Nothing helped. Her teeth chattered a little, and the tears began to slide down her cheeks in a wet path. They cooled instantly on her flushed skin as they ran into her mouth. She pulled ineffectually on the restraints again, miserable, finally crying aloud because she couldn't help it anymore.

"Do you have any idea why I'm angry with you?"

His voice, hard and angry, made her cry harder. "Because I d-didn't t-tell you about it earlier?" she stammered, writhing miserably on the floor in her futile attempt to get comfortable.

"There is that," he agreed. "There is also your ridiculous idea that I would have wanted you to actually sleep with a man who _hurt_ you in order to gain his allegiance."

"Maybe you thought I wouldn't mind. Since I sleep with men who tried to kill me." Rogue whispered.

"Do stop it," he snapped. "I'm not entirely in the mood for your pity, Marie."

She curled up tighter at that, but didn't speak.

"I am also angry," he continued, "That you apparently feel you have so little value to me that I would allow this to happen to you _under my roof_."

"I know what I am to you," Rogue said softly.

"Do you?" His voice sharpened. "I don't think that you do. If you did, you would not be sleeping on the floor."

"I am a soldier. You've said so often enough."

"Oh for the love of _God_, Marie," he snapped, and she heard the angle of his voice change, as if he'd sat up. "I do not understand why you insist upon believing that I do not care for you."

Rogue blinked. "What?"

"You heard me."

"I don't think—Erik, I didn't tell you because I—" she took a deep breath, but it was hard to talk. She was so cold her muscles were tight and coiled.

"Because you do not trust me to keep you safe."

"N-no," she whispered, shaking her head.

"Then why?"

Rogue pressed her heated face on cold floor; it was the only place where the chill was a relief, even though it stung her bruise. "I knew what you'd say."

"Did you?"

The warning in his voice was clear, but she was so horribly miserable that she didn't figure there was much he could do to her that would be worse than _this_. "That I should handle it myself."

"I imagine I would have said that, the first time, because I trust that you are quite formidable and able to fight off unwanted advances. However, at the time when such advances became threatening…I cannot fathom why you would not have spoken to me about it."

Tears spilled over her eyes again, but she remained quiet.

"Since you did not, I could only suppose that you think I may _blame_ you—which is ridiculous and insulting—or that you feared I would tell you to—how is it that you put it? _Fuck him to ensure his allegiance_? Do you think yourself a whore for me, is that it?"

Her fingers tightened around the shackles. She was so cold she thought for certain it would be the death of her, this chill that had seeped into both her blood and her soul. "No," she sobbed. "No."

"Then how do you explain your behavior to me? So that I may understand that I am not, in fact, sleeping next to a woman every night who has no regard for me whatsoever and who thinks I am a heartless monster who does not care when someone _attacks_ her?" His voice hardened. "And if you mention Liberty Island to me again, Marie, I will throw you out of this bedroom myself."

Unable to speak, she sobbed harder. Did he _think_ that? Did he honestly believe she didn't—but she _loved_ him, didn't he know that?

_How could he? You've never told him, and you're so afraid that he's going to dismiss your feelings that you pretend it doesn't matter, but it does, and that's why you couldn't--_

"I was afraid you wouldn't c-care." Her teeth chattered loudly. "I didn't w-want you t-to t-tell m-me that it w-was n-nothing, or n-not believe m-me, like—"

"Like what?" He'd risen from the bed; she heard his footfalls as he came to stand above her.

"L-like Lewiston." She peeked up at him, saw the grim set of his features in the spill of moonlight through the window. His face was harsh, unforgiving.

"Have I ever given you reason to believe that?"

Too upset to answer, all she could do was shiver on the ground and hope he would have mercy and release her.

Presently her arms came undone from their captivity, and she felt herself rise off the floor and levitate over to the bed. She settled into the mattress, burying her face into the pillow. The sheets were cold but it was a thousand times warmer than the floor. She pulled the comforter over her with relief.

He sat next to her on the bed. "I believe you. Of course I do. Why would you lie to me about that?"

Huddled beneath the covers, warmth began to seep back into her body. "I don't want them to treat me any different because of who I sleep with," she murmured, wiping her face with a shaking hand. "I want to earn respect."

"I understand that." He looked down at her intently. "What I want _you_ to understand, Marie, is that I will keep my house in order," he said firmly. "Is that clear?"

She nodded, still too upset to relax even though her teeth had stopped their incessant chattering. "Erik, I _am_ sorry. I just…sometimes…" she worried her bottom lip with her teeth, unsure how he would take what she had to say.

He sighed, and surprised her by drawing his hand down her hair. "Go on," he urged her.

"I think you want to make it clear to the others that I don't receive…favoritism…because I'm your—" she took a deep breath. "Because I'm your lover."

He pulled his hand away, but he didn't look angry. When he spoke again, his voice was gruff. "I suppose that is true, though to be honest—" he faltered, momentarily unsure of himself. "I'm afraid I'm not overly warm or demonstrative by nature."

"I know," she said softly, then reached out tentatively to lay her hand on his arm. "It's okay. I don't need—any affection for me is good enough," she said with a slight smile. "Since I never expected to have any, and, you know. It could kill you."

"Ah. There is that."

They were quiet for a moment, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Eventually, he sighed and took her hand in his. "I am not an easy man to live with. You would not be the first to take me to task for being emotionally distant. But I do care for you, and I _trust_ you, Marie, do you understand?"

That warmed her more than anything, and her body relaxed further. "I trust you, too. I should have told you."

"Yes, you should have. Now go to sleep. We'll deal with this in the morning."

She nodded. "He's an ass, Erik. He won't take no for an answer, and I even _kicked_ him."

"You may kick him again in the morning, if you like." He stood up, and for a moment she was worried that he was leaving her, but all he did was walk around the side of the bed and lay back down beside her.

"In the future if anyone lays a hand on you, you _will_ tell me. I do not care who it is." He drew her next to him, careful to hold her without touching her skin.

"Is it bad I want you to hurt him?" she murmured, drowsy at last, inhaling his scent and finding comfort in the familiarity of it.

He gave a soft, vaguely sinister laugh and drew her closer. "No."

She settled against him, finally fully relaxed. "Mmm. Will you?"

His hand stroked down her hair in a lulling, comforting rhythm. He nuzzled her neck. "Oh, yes."

"Can I watch?" Her body stirred, warmth curling low in her belly.

"Vicious little thing, of course you can." He nipped her ear and she gasped a little. His fingers slid down to rest on her waist, tightening slightly. "You are mine, Marie. _Mine_." His mouth moved up her neck in hot, open-mouthed kisses. She felt her power stir and grasped at him.

"Yours…yes," she gasped, trembling almost violently with passion and emotion. "Yours…"

He was pulling at her clothes and she was struggling to help him, twisting her body eagerly so that he could remove them.

"Don't make me do that again," he murmured, shifting on top of her. He kissed her and she kissed him back, her hands clutching desperately at his shoulders.

He pulled away, breathing harshly, staring down at her with consuming eyes. "You will never doubt me again, Marie."

"No," she moaned, twisting and writhing, pressing her legs together to ease the ache between her thighs. "I won't, promise…"

His gloved hands brutally grasped her breasts, squeezing tightly. "I will keep you safe, I will protect you."

She liked this, when he was fully clothed and she was naked beneath him; she arched her back and her head fell back, her throat bared in submission. "Yes…Erik, please," she moaned, her legs coming up to wrap around his narrow hips. She didn't care about anything but feeling him, having him take her, show her to whom she belonged…

Growling, he leaned down and kissed her again, harshly, his mouth bruising. He reached over to the bedside table and yanked at the drawer, still without breaking their embrace.

Rogue had to push him away when her powers flared, not wanting to hurt him. "God, please," she gasped, wantonly pushing her hips up towards him.

He laughed, but it was a strangled sound, and a moment later she felt him press against her, hard and hot. She cried out as he entered her with one fierce thrust, moving with him in sensual abandon, all of her unhappiness and fear coalescing into a sharp, fierce lust.

He bit her neck; she knew she would have a mark in the morning, and she wanted it, badly, to be marked as his. Daringly, she leaned up and did the same, sinking her teeth in the flesh of his neck.

He groaned aloud at that, thrusting harder inside of her, forcing her down again with hands on her shoulders. Happy to submit to his dominance, she kept her legs wrapped tight around him and squeezed his cock with her inner muscles. She felt a fierce rush of pleasure when he hissed and bit her again.

It was over quickly; she came hard with a loud keening cry, her body bowed in a moment of tense, sharp pleasure before she fell back on the bed, exhausted and gasping for breath. He collapsed on her a moment later for a few seconds before removing his weight and moving to lie on his back.

Rogue sat up and reached for her clothes, pulling them on with a yawn. Once she was dressed, she curled up next to him and laid her head on his shoulder, her hand resting lightly on his chest. She normally didn't do this, initiate physical contact, but she was starting to think that might be part of the problem. She told him so, shyly, wondering if he would mind her forwardness.

He looked down at her, his expression relaxed and unguarded for once. "Of course I don't mind. I must insistent on certain standards of conduct when we are around others, my dear, but you need not be afraid to show affection when we are alone," he said gruffly.

She nodded, sleepy. "Okay. Please don't—please don't ever do that again, with the floor. Unless I really deserve it." She shuddered slightly as the memory disturbed her post-coital peace.

"I shall indeed do it if you deserve it," he said, tugging on her hair. "There is a certain balance of power in this relationship and I'm sure you are aware of it."

She yawned. "Uh-huh."

He snorted. "Are you humoring me?"

"'Course not, Erik." She rubbed her face against his shirt.

"I don't believe you. However, I am too tired to argue, so I shall let it go this once." He tugged her hair again.

She smiled at that. "Gonna kill Pyro in the mornin', too," she muttered.

"You will do nothing of the sort. He cares about you, too. You would do well to remember that."

"Am I gettin' lessons on interpersonal relationships from Magneto?" She opened her eyes and grinned up at him.

His eyes were closed, but he smiled briefly. "Frightening, isn't it? Now go to sleep, Marie," he ordered.

"Yes sir," she murmured, and she felt him lightly thwap the side of her head for her impertinence. As she closed her eyes, she was assailed by the image of Magneto twisting Omega Red's tentacles around his neck, tighter and tighter, until his head snapped off.

Soothed, she fell asleep immediately.

ooooooooOOOOoooooooo

In the morning, Rogue was fixing herself a cup of coffee and humming as she added some sugar to the chicory brew that was Gambit's specialty. Her neck throbbed where Erik had marked it, but she'd left her hair pulled back, not wanting to hide the mark.

He, however, had emerged from the bathroom wearing a turtleneck. She'd hid a grin at that.

Omega Red sauntered into the kitchen, giving her his usual smarmy smile. "Good morning _detka_," he murmured, raising a hand in greeting. His eyes found the mark on her neck and his smiled faded. "I see now. You are not interested in being my lover because you have someone else, mmm? If I kill him, you will want me, is this a challenge?"

"You may see it that way if you wish, Arkady," Erik said coldly from the kitchen doorway, his use of Omega Red's human name an obvious insult. "Though it might be very stupid, considering my particular mutant power."

Omega Red's eyes narrowed speculatively, then his face whitened a bit. "Ah…I see. I beg your pardon, Magneto. I mean no offense."

Erik sipped his coffee and gave Omega Red a dangerous smile, his eyes sharp. "It is not my pardon you need to beg." He waited patiently.

"Surely you do not mean—"

That was the wrong thing to say. Suddenly, one of Omega's tentacles wrapped around his neck and the man levitated up in the air, his body bent backwards at an unnatural angle. "Unless you wish me to hurt you very badly, you will do as I say and you will do so _now_."

"I—my apologies, _detka—_"

"Ah, Arkady, let's not use endearments you have no right to use, shall we?" Erik's voice was devoid of any hint of emotion. He sounded capable of doing just about anything in that moment without a hint of remorse.

Rogue leaned against the counter and watched, smiling with glee. The offending mutant's body twisted and Omega Red screamed out, a long stream of Russian curses escaping him.

"Now, now. Such language in front of a lady." Erik winked at her, calmly taking another sip of his coffee.

"I am sorry, Rogue."

"Could you make him scream again?" Rogue asked, ignoring the mutant's apology, smiling at Erik.

He smiled back. "If you wish." He waved his hand and Omega Red's body bent backwards, making the other man scream loudly.

"That's enough for me," Rogue said cheerfully, standing next to Erik as he lowered the mutant to the floor.

"Arkady, if you _ever_ lay a hand on Rogue again—or any other mutant under my protection, for that matter—I promise you shall regret it. Are we perfectly clear?"

"_Da_," he muttered, leaning weakly against the counter, his eyes wide.

Erik finished his coffee and set the mug in the sink. "Good. I'll see you in training." He leaned down and murmured in Rogue's ear. "Feel free to kick him on your way out." He straightened and left the kitchen without another glance.

Rogue smiled sweetly at Omega Red, and kicked him, hard, right in the groin. "Don't you even _look_ at me again," she hissed, then left the kitchen with her chin raised and her back straight.

Who said violence didn't solve anything? Omega Red left two days later, without saying another single word to Rogue, not even _dosvadanya_ on his way out the door.


End file.
